Mamoru's Dilemma
by Alicia Blade
Summary: Mamoru tries to play knight in shining armor with an unfamiliar damsel. But he may have gotten more than he bargained for. A short oneparter.


Mamoru's Dilemma  
By Alicia Blade   
  
August 2004 ANs  
This story was written three to six years ago. I've retained the original author's notes for novelty purposes, though some may no longer apply. This story has been recently edited for reposting, but nothing else has changed. I hope you will enjoy it, whether reading it for the first time or the fiftieth!   
  
::waves meekly:: Hi… I'm back… =) I know I've been promising a lot of stories and have posted… well… nothing… giggle Sorry! But to prove I'm at least trying to work, here is a short WAFF fic, first season, and yes, very, very, very short… But I hope you'll all like it anyway!! I am still working on the Inner Senshi Series (now titled "Grows Like a Flower") and my Silver Millennium "Prince Charming." I don't know when these will be done, but I haven't forgotten them - or you! I've just been working on original stories… so that I can be published someday! ::hops around:: And I am posting the first I've finished, probably the only original I will post on the internet unless I for some reason can't get published, but it's called "Foxglove" and I'm really proud of it and would love for you all to read it and tell me what you think!! Any and all suggestions or ideas are more than welcome!! It can be found at **[[First Love: see bio for link]]** ::grin::   
  
KING OF FIGHTERS FANS!! I've been hired to advertise a site and club for a good friend of mine… his way cool (but rarely visited) website can be found at , so if you're an Iori fan (like me ::drool::) or any kind of gamer, check it out! And if you'd like to talk about the game, you can join his yahoo club at **[[link no longer applicable]]**   
  
What else… oh, my EMAIL ADDRESS IS CHANGING to AliBlade22 at hotmail. If you have any of my fics on your site, could you please modify that for me, since I don't have all the pages bookmarked. Arigatou gozaimasu!   
  
::ponders:: I think that's all my news for right now… Hope you all haven't forgotten me… I should be back into the groove of things soon, ne? Oh yeah, and everyone make sure you change your bookmarks to First Love!!! We finally got our own domain and so we can now be found at **[[see bio for link]]** YATTA!!   
  
Ne... I'm starting to lose track of which of my fav scriptures I've used... isn't that awful? --;; Anyway, let's hope I don't repeat 'em, giggle   
  
Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said, Here am I; send me.  
_- Isaiah 6:8_   
  


Mamoru's Dilemma  
Alicia Blade

  
  
For the third or one hundred and eighty-sixth time, my eyes travel her length, head to toe, partly covered up by an old shaggy brown blanket lazily tossed around her waist. I feel guilty. I should stand up and walk over to that couch, carefully tug the blanket down over her bare feet, then return to my perch on this large green recliner. I should do that, so that she won't wake up. So that some unsuspecting breeze against her toes won't jolt her from her slumber.   
  
I remain frozen.   
  
The girl has one hand tossed over her head, the slender fingers dangling off the arm of the sofa. The other palm is attached low on her chest, unknowingly forcing the material of her school uniform to inch upward on her tiny stomach. The smooth, milky, pale skin of her tiny stomach.   
  
Her waist and legs are covered by the aforementioned old shaggy brown blanket, leaving only the top of a blue pleated skirt visible. But despite this almost thankful occurrence, my mind conjures up the image of those legs anyway. Not willingly, I assure my reader, but remembering from when she fell into my arms, and I unconsciously lifted her off the cement, I could see two perfectly shaped, long, thin, yet strong legs held on top of one arm. So, regardless of the fact I am blind to them now, the knowledge of their existence still has a strange effect on my nineteen-year-old male mind.   
  
But then my eyes gradually make their way to her face. Her pale lips are slightly parted, and dry from breath, but they remain full and lush and tempting. Her nose is small, cutely pointed up, only slightly. I do not remember the color of her eyes, but I can see how long her black eyelashes are as they brush up against her skin. Her face is lightly tanned, but still quite pale, heart shaped, without a single fault in the perfect skin. And then her hair, golden tendrils curled around her long neck, wispy bangs framing her forehead, and two perfectly round spheres on either side of her head, complete with ribbons of hair cascading to the floor, puddling on top of my gray carpet.   
  
A perfect vision, the embodiment of everything incredible and beautiful, lies asleep on my couch at this very moment. And I feel awful.   
  
My dilemma is this:   
  
A: I have never seen such a stunningly gorgeous girl in my life.   
  
B: I have never felt this way for any girl, stunningly gorgeous or not, in my life.   
  
C: I don't even know her name.   
  
Groaning, I rub my fingers over my temple, almost willing her eyes to open, but they remained locked in that blissful sleep.  
  
There is something wrong with her. This, I know. I don't know what it is, yet, but I will the second she wakes up, opens her mouth, and speaks. Either her voice will be horridly annoying and high pitched, breaking my eardrums, or she will be rude, careless, a snob, inconsiderate, unkind, or maybe even just stupid. Whatever it is, that is sure to be the defining collapse of all these unknown feelings running through my mind. And in that moment I will tell myself that it was just my lust-filled hormones reacting to a pretty face, not my . . . oh, what is that part they say speaks to you when you're in love? Ah, the blasted heart. Right, my heart has never talked to me before; Why would it start now? Not that I'd listen to it anyway.   
  
Standing up, I take my empty coffee mug into the kitchen, letting it drown in the suds-filled sink, before returning to the living room. Even from this angle I pause to stare at her, before slowly making my way to her side. Lightly tugging on my trouser pant legs, I sit down on the coffee table.   
  
She mumbles something inaudible in her sleep, a pair of eyes squinting beneath the closed lids with her fingers fidgeting at her shirt. Frowning, I reach forward for the blanket, beginning to pull it up on her chest. Pulling back, I remain like a statue for a moment with my elbows on my knees and my hands clasped together. For another amount of frozen time, I stare at her; it seems to be all that I can do.   
  
Taking a slight initiative, my fingers stretch out to comb through the curled blonde bangs. Cupping her cheek unwillingly in my palm, my thumb claims a misplaced eyelash.   
  
Her eyes fluttered again, squinting tight, before relaxing. I stall, hovering over her as two heavy lids opened up to reveal dark blue, exhausted eyes. She blinks up at me, confusion mixing in with the tired specks of silver in the irises, her lashes continuing to flutter. I could only stare at her, my hand against her cheek, towering mercilessly above the frail body. Gulping, I drew back, only a few inches, my lips tensing with lack of words to say.   
  
The serene peace of the moment shattered instantaneously.   
  
"Aaaaahhh!! Get away from me, you pervert!!" She screeches, her wail piercing the walls of my apartment. Instinctively, I pull back, stumbling over my coffee table to land on the floor opposite her, my long legs dangling still over the wooden surface.   
  
The girl grabs at the blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders and jumping over the back of the couch, knocking it over on her decent. Sitting up again, she peers over her new fallen shelter, her eyes blazing in my direction. Speechless, I only stare, blinking in awe.   
  
"Who are you? Where are we? What do you think you were DOING?!" she continues to scream, jumping to her feet to slowly begin backing away from me.   
  
With hesitation, I pull my legs toward me, before gaining enough balance to hobble onto my feet, holding out my hands. "Hey… hey there… calm down…" seems to be all that I can say.   
  
She continues to clutch that old shaggy brown blanket, her lips pulled down in a tight frown. "I will not calm down! You… you kidnapper!!"   
  
"Wha… kidnapper?!" My eyes widen in a gasp, only allowing me enough time to duck as a cordless phone comes soaring toward my head. "Hey! What did you do that for?"   
  
"You pervert!"   
  
"Ack!" The digital alarm clock smacks against my shoulder, before clattering to the floor.   
  
"Child rapist!"   
  
"No, no, not my…"   
  
CRASH!   
  
"That was my favorite vase…" Sighing, I let my head hang down as she continues to grab anything in distance, before chucking it in my direction. Shaking my head, I listen to another loud bang somewhere on the wall behind me, afraid to see what it was that time, before I jump into my ultra-cool, stealthy, James Bond, Mission Impossible mode - lunging forward, I haul over the sofa, roll on the floor, and grab onto the girl's ankles, forcing her to fall with an "oof!" against the carpet, before clamping her wrists to the floor with one hand and holding her mouth shut with the other.   
  
"Would you RELAX?!" I shout in her face, watching her eyes change from angry to frightened to worried, widening, before ever so slightly softening, then they close tight with a small whimper.   
  
I gulp, lessening my hold on her hands and completely tearing my other palm away from her mouth.   
  
"Look, I don't want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you! Don't you… don't you remember what happened? At all…?"   
  
She opens her eyes again, her head listed to the side to stare out at the expanse of my bare living room. Chewing on her lip, she refuses to speak, and I could only stare as a few tears began to slip from her eyes, rolling over the bridge of her nose and down her cheek, to soak into the carpet.   
  
My hand twitches toward her to wipe them away, but I refuse it the pleasure, frightened of her reaction to any attempt to touch her with the slightest hint of intimacy. With a grunt, I push myself off of her completely, standing up. I look down at her again, before reaching for her hand and forcing her to follow my example. A squeak escapes her lips, but then she stands before me silently, analyzing the carpet with both hands folded over her chest.   
  
"I remember… walking home from school," she states calmly, with a small voice echoing from the tip of her tongue. My eyebrows raise at the sound, so different from her frightened yelling moments ago. "And I felt sick. I hadn't felt well all day. Then, everything started to spin… and my knees got weak. Then… there was a very tall… handsome…" Gasping, her head shot up, her eyes wide as they looked at me. Blinking, I watched in confusion as her face flushed of all color, before burning red. "I'm sorry…" she whispers, her eyes watering yet again. "I'm sorry for any trouble I caused…"   
  
Sobbing, she turns and runs toward the front door, grabbing onto her book bag and shoes before fleeing the apartment. The door slams behind her.   
  
As for me… I only stare after her, my mouth open and dry, my eyes blurred, before my knees go weak and I fall to the ground, crouching in the center of the living room.   
  
What a headache I had the rest of that day.   
  
Mechanical beeps and buzzers sounded around me as I walked into the room filled with video machines and cheap carnival games. Walking past the familiar entertainment areas, overloaded with teens and children, I brushed into the second part of The Crown Center Arcade, the small restaurant located in the back. The scent of coffee hit my senses and sweeping over to the counter, I ordered a cup from the waitress, before finally taking a moment to look around the room, searching for a certain blonde haired man.   
  
Not long after had I let my eyes rove over the many tables did I regret to inform myself that he wasn't there today. Motoki, my best friend, worked at the ever-popular Crown Center Arcade, often drawing in most of their female customers much to his dense ignorance. But he must be on vacation.   
  
Sighing, I turned to my coffee.   
  
"Hey buddy!"   
  
A slap on the back sent me into convulsions, spitting my drink back into its cup, before sputtering about as I reached for the napkin held up to my face.   
  
I should have known - Motoki never takes vacations.   
  
He chuckled, claiming the stool beside me. "Didn't see ya come in. Been here long?" he started making slight of the conversation, untying his apron to drape it over the counter. "I'm on break right now. Here, I'll treat you to a shake. Chocolate?"   
  
"No, thank you, I'm fine with my coffee."   
  
"Ah, you're no fun…" he taunted, beginning to straighten out the salt and peppershakers on the high wooden counter. "Where were you yesterday, Mamoru-kun? I tried calling a few times, but no one picked up. Was beginning to think maybe you were on a date." His voice was teasing and, without bothering to look up, I could imagine the twinkle in those green eyes.   
  
For his amusement, I mocked a laugh.   
  
"No? Well then where were you?"   
  
"I don't know."   
  
"Well… I called around seven… Maybe you were grocery shopping?"   
  
"I don't know."   
  
He was silent for a moment, standing behind me, before he slowly leaned over on the table, trying to get me to look at him. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"   
  
"Ano… Motoki-kun, yesterday didn't exist, okay? I would just like to throw away the whole memory into some deep, dark hole and never think about it or mention it or talk about it again, understand?" Nodding forcefully, I took a long swig of my coffee. It scorched my throat, but that was a kind of pain I could ignore.   
  
After a long moment, Motoki inhaled deeply, standing and grabbing his apron off the table. "If you say so. I have to get back to work." With that, he walked calmly back toward the arcade.   
  
Groaning, I rubbed my hand through my hair, scratching my head nervously. I know that he hates it when I don't tell him what's going on, but in all honesty, I thought he would be used to it by now.   
  
Downing the last of my drink, I toss aside enough money to cover the tip, and leave through the back exit.   
  
Tripping out of the apartment elevator, I searched my pockets for my keys, mumbling inaudibly to myself as I walked down the familiar auburn hallway with decorative wall sconces. I still felt guilty about brushing Motoki off as I had, but my mind was set on forgetting yesterday, and my pretty little problem.   
  
I still didn't know her name.   
  
But I didn't want to know, either.   
  
Nodding my head securely, as if to convince myself of that statement, I pulled my keys from my pocket, flipping through them by touch before grabbing the key to my apartment and letting the rest hang from my palm.   
  
With a low sigh, I rounded the corner, and stopped mid-step. Blinking, I eyed an almost frightening sight, afraid that if I moved closer I would find it was real. Or maybe I was afraid that I would find it was an illusion.   
  
The girl from yesterday sat leaned up against my doorway, her knees pulled to her chest, tied together with her arms, and her head buried in those. Her hair was styled the same, with two identical buns atop either side of her head. The rest of the spun gold fell messily onto the carpet. Beside her sat a small blue crystal vase. Though almost tacky looking, it was cute - the color of the girl's eyes even - and with a cluster of large daisies erupting from its spout.   
  
Gulping, I brought my feet together so that I didn't look quite so dumb standing there.   
  
"Oy, Odango Atama. You're back." I stated the obvious, finding a suitable nickname for her off the top of my head.   
  
Her head snapped up, surprise and a touch of fear in her gaze, before it softened upon meeting my own. She opened her mouth a few times as if to speak, but ceased before any words could get out, turning away.   
  
Shaking my head, I briefly considered turning around and going for another long walk. Hopefully she would be gone when I came back. Instead, I continued. "What do you want?" I asked semi-coldly, trying to be as gentle as possible: a strange task for me.   
  
She shivered, tensing her shoulders. Refusing to meet eye contact, she grabbed onto the vase at her side, thrusting it into the air. "Here."   
  
Blink.   
  
Silence.   
  
"What's that?"   
  
"It's a vase, baka!" she screeched, pulling it into her lap so that I could see the redness in her cheeks.   
  
My eyebrow quirked.   
  
"And…?"   
  
"And… and… daisies?!"   
  
Chuckling, I thrust my hands into my pockets, letting my keys fall from my fingers. "And what do you want me to do with it?"   
  
She stared at me for a moment as if she didn't quite understand my question, before her brow furrowed. "I want you to have it."   
  
Our stares clashed.   
  
The girl sighed, her eyelashes lowering once again. It appeared that she was staring at the beige carpet with mute amusement.   
  
"I'm sorry about breaking your other vase… and your clock… and your phone. I… I'll buy you all new ones, but this was all I could afford right now. It's not much, and it isn't as nice as your old one… It isn't even real crystal, gomen ne… but I only had enough in my savings to buy this."   
  
Hopelessly, I stared in awe, my eyes dancing from her face - still turned away from me - to the daisies and the vase. They passed over her lips for a brief moment, but my mind refused to register.   
  
"I don't want it."   
  
"Nani?" Again, she looked up to me in shock.   
  
"Arigatou…" I muttered, desperately attempting to wet my throat. "But I don't want it. You don't have to spend your only money on me. I'm sure there are other things you would love to buy for yourself."   
  
Blink.   
  
More silence.   
  
"But… then… there's nothing else I can give you."   
  
I hesitated, daring to look up at my closed door. "How about… your name."   
  
I didn't look down at her, though I could hear her fidgeting slightly. Curling her legs up, she moved to stand, her back still against the doorway.   
  
"Usagi."   
  
My lips quirked, my stare dancing down to mock hers. Bunny. A little blonde bunny.   
  
"Tsukino Usagi." She held out her hand, the vase now tucked carefully between her left arm and stomach.   
  
I nodded, accepting the shake. "Chiba Mamoru. It's a pleasure to meet you, Usagi-chan." Slowly pulling back, I reached again for my keys. "Now if you'll excuse me…"   
  
"Please take it!" she screeched suddenly, once again holding out the vase.   
  
I could only look at her unconsciously, looking from the flowers to her tight frown. "That's okay, I really…"   
  
"I'll feel guilty otherwise. Onegai, Mamoru-san?"   
  
For no apparent reason, my heart began to thud hard against my ribcage, harder than it ever had to my remembrance. Slowly, my hands reached out to wrap around the vase.   
  
"Under one condition." Suddenly, my thoughts froze. Had I just said that? I hadn't even been thinking.   
  
Her head tilted to the side. "What's that?"   
  
Still, my mind refused to cooperate. Still, I stared at her in mute shock, fear, undying curiosity.   
  
Think fast.   
  
"You agree to let me buy you dinner."   
  
Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes staring up at me unblinking. She seemed to move to speak a few times, but each time clamped her lips tightly again. After a moment, she shook her head - slowly.   
  
My brow rose, my entire body tensing. Rejection?   
  
"You don't even know me."   
  
"But that's half the fun." Seeing her instant appalled expression, I chuckled, letting my chin fall to my collar. "I didn't mean it that way, Usagi-chan. Please, one dinner is all I ask, in payment for the vase."   
  
"But then I'll still owe you."   
  
I pondered this for a moment.   
  
"Then I suppose you can buy me a clock… and I'll take you out to lunch for that."   
  
Her eyes fluttered, her cheeks tinting pink. "And then… shall I get you a phone?"   
  
"Only if you'd accompany me for dessert."   
  
Usagi gulped, and ever so slowly, a grin began to arise over her small face. "But then what will I give you in payment for the dessert?"   
  
Briefly, my stare lowered to her lips, soft, pale pink, moist…   
  
"I suppose we'll come up with something when we get there."   
  
With a shy smile, she nodded. "As you wish."   
  
I realized that I had a great problem at that moment.   
  
And my dilemma is this:   
  
A: I have just met the most stunningly gorgeous girl I've ever met in my life.   
  
B: I am about to escort this stunningly gorgeous girl to a fancy, elegant restaurant.   
  
C: My favorite tux is at the dry cleaners…   
  
FIN   
  
This was a one-shot. Don't ask for a sequel. Please, please, please don't ask for a sequel. ::begs::   
  
Ja! Ai shite!  
<3 Ali-chan 


End file.
